Salvation Gone Wrong
by LazulithLacie
Summary: Even a savior sometimes needs saving from himself. Because at one point he starts falling apart and there will be no turning back. /Oneshot


Aaah .. I was challenged by a friend to write this .. It was so damn late and I had NO ideas at all. *sigh* .. And this is the result D:

So~ there are not much stories concerning our most beloved therapist, no ? Well well, then I shall present you a very bad one ! And like most of you, I was pretty freaked out by this guy near the end, haha.

.. Though I kinda like his voice~ Fufufu, whutevar !

This little piece here is not that dark. That's because I went a bit deeper into his past where everything may have developed and slowly made him turn into the person we all know now.

Yes, that's right – Young!Bumby for you guys~

Enjoy ;)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to American McGee.

**Warning:** Sucking story sucks.

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><p>"I have found it sometimes hard to define that word.<p>

There are so many kinds of madness,

so many ways in which the human brain may go wrong;

and so often it happens that what we call madness is both reasonable and just.

It is so.

Yes.

A little reason is good for us,

a little more makes wise men of some of us –

but when our reason over-grows us and we reach too far,

something breaks and we go insane."

[James O. Curwood]

..::...::..

Behavior. Experience. Action. Emotion.

They all form the human mind. They create personalities, unique and fascinating even through the smallest of differences. But no matter how small or big they may be - there is something everyone shares. Something so ordinary and absolutely normal that we might forget how much of an effect it has on us. That we don't realize anymore how much it might change us. But aren't we the only ones who decide about how much we change over time ? Yet, the environment is able to influence our mind in most different ways, whether those are positive or negative. And sometimes mankind fails to see just how strong this external force may deform our inner senses and to what catastrophic results it might lead.

_He knew._

Observation. Understanding. Explanation.

Why do we act, think and feel the way we do ? All answers are based on experiences. Based on observations. There are many theories trying to define what exactly changes and why. But the structure from which the human mind is composed is much more complex. It hides our darkest depths and is able to bring forth something we don't even know it exists within us. And no matter how much we try to struggle, to fight against all that might harm our sanity. No matter how strong, wise or stable we think to be. Fear, manipulation and the neverending search for a purpose in our lifes have represented some of our weakest points from time immemorial.

_He knew._

It was something he learned. For hours, days and months. It was something he was supposed to understand. For himself and others.

The human psyche had fascinated him for a long time. It reflected the pattern of a human soul, kept the puzzle of every individual. It was ones biggest strength and worst weakness at the same time. And he, as part of the environment that held the power to influence those contrasting forces, was able to move the puzzle of ones mind in ways invisible to others.

It was something he learned. Something he would use to help those who couldn't help themselves. _Yes._

His fascination led to knowledge, his knowledge to thirst for even more knowledge. It was human. And he needed to soothe this thirst. Everyone would try to. Somehow. That was why he had decided to visit the University of Oxford.

He listened to lectures day in and day out, took notes for as long as the papers gave him space. But experience was much more important than just theories. And it was part of his studies. One he had anticipated ever since. It would enrich him and all he had learned until then.

He seemed to be not much different from the other students. Yet he was one especially fine undergraduate with a strong curiosity for the subject. Curiosity was not a sin. It was merely a harmless symptom coming from his desire to know more. So he studied even more, analyzed, _understood._ Wasn't there a kind of power slowly growing inside of him ? But of course ..

He could feel it. Feel how his knowledge became even greater. And with time, he began to understand more about others than they could ever understand about themselves. It was a certain strength he held. But it was by far not enough. So he sank deeper into books, endless arrays of text, words, letters. He looked at pictures, schemes providing him with countless examples, explanations, solutions. Nothing promising, nothing reliable, only thoughts, thoughts and answers forced upon questions. No, _no, _it was not enough, not what he needed. He wanted more. Wanted to see for himself. The way he could learn the best was to learn first-hand from the one being he studied about.

Humans.

It all started with the smallest of them – children. Such young and vulnerable little creatures. He saw them often and most of the time alone. Abandoned, forgotten, broken. Without any real place or purpose in this world._ Without use._

Yes, it was a problem he and many cities had to face day for day. If it wasn't sickness, it was murder. If it was neither, it sometimes was the family itself. Crushing and destroying all a child had, all it needed. Taking away their childhood before it could even begin.

All that remained was anxiety, burned deep into the soft flesh. And the memories kept the flame blazing, eating away even the last bit of innocence they still had. They would bleed, bleed from wounds invisible to others. Bleed for years without anyone noticing or caring. Until nothing was left. Nothing but lifeless eyes and soundless voices. Poor souls without anywhere to go. This shouldn't be. It was unnecessary. _They were. _But how could he release them from their deepest fears ? How could he repair them, give them back a function in this world ?

_He didn't know._

There had to be something. Something he had yet to learn. It was his task, his duty. His purpose was to give them a new one. It was what they wished from him. _Of course._

They were too small, too young. They didn't understand life, couldn't help themselves. Their will was too weak. Their body too feeble. They were frail. Pitiful. _Pathetic._ But there were other cases. When those children didn't vanish, didn't give up their meaningless lifes. When they became adults.

Same like before, only worse.

Minds more broken, but filled with the same anxiety. Still such hollow eyes and sealed lips.

Same like before, only older.

Bodies more distinct shaped, but bruised with the same wounds. Still such delicate skin and there's no use, _no use for them._

The world didn't need this, didn't need them. There were too many and the days brought forth even more. He saw them, analyzed every single one of them. It was his job, it was what he learned. He listened to them, listened to what they had to say. If they had to say something. Most of them didn't. So he sat there, asked questions, observed, took notes for as long the papers gave him space._ Still the same, nothing's changed._ Sometimes it unnerved him. Sometimes it frustrated him.

There had to be a progress, there had to be something he could do to help this world. But those people, broken bodies and twisted minds, those people made it difficult. They were not needed, unwanted. He had to cure them, had to take away their uselessness. But they wouldn't respond, wouldn't react.

There was still so much he had to learn. It was not enough._ Never enough !_

So he kept sitting there, kept asking his questions, kept listening. And sometimes they would start talking. Deadpan eyes staring everywhere but at him. Words, whimpers whispered through the room. Pitiful, such pitiful creatures. He could see them bleeding, how the blood dripped down their bodies. _Well-formed sometimes._ He had to watch them, had to analyze every little bit of them. So he did.

He was their savior and they needed him. _Yes. _After all, he was supposed to help them, to release them from themselves. He had to smother the fire caused by their pasts.

Someone had once told him, that memories were the only paradise a person could never be banished from. Foolish thought. As much as memories could grant some sort of paradise they could also be pure hell. They could burden people, hurt them repeatedly. Infected them from the inside, corrupted and stained their sanity. Spread through them like a plague. Distorted them, made them sick. Such memories .. Shouldn't exist. Did not have to. And he. He possessed the power to simply erase them .. right ?_ Right._

Eliminate the germs in their heads. Heal the old wounds of their past. Give them back a role in this world.

He knew what he had to do. He knew what he was able to do.

Move the pieces of their crushed little souls. Stitch them back together. Make them work again.

It became more obvious with every session he attended. What made them malfunction. He just had to strip them off their pestilential memories. Let them forget. Naked minds, freed from any unnecessary things. So defenceless. So lost. Give them a purpose, show them the way. Yes, _yes of course._ They could be wanted. They didn't have to be so meaningless.

He just had to repair them. _They wanted to be. _

He just had to put them to use. _They wanted to be._

He just had to make them become needed. _They wanted to be._

Mourning, crying, nothing more than painful lamentations. He could take that from them. Desperation, hopelessness, nothing more than deepest anguish. He could take that from them.

He was the only one they had, the only one who listened. But they barely appreciated that. No wonder. They didn't realize anymore what they did or said. They were sick. Their thoughts eaten away by the foulness of their soul. He could see it. See what lay beyond their clothes, beyond their skin. The body concealed the rotten core inside of them. Some of them looked so innocent. Especially the younger ones. But there was something going wrong inside of them. They were broken, _broken_, no one wanted something like that.

But he was there, tried to understand them, tried to heal them. And they never, _never acknowledged that._ He had devoted his life to them. Years and years of studying only to be there for those no one cared about. They were trash. But he stayed at their side. Yet he still wasn't good enough for them. They needed more. More help. He saw it in their eyes, begging him to get them out of their misery. It was logical. Anyone who suffered from an illness wanted to become healthy again. There was no great difference. And someday he would make them recognize his efforts.

Time went on. Days filled with abnormality, delusions, lunacy. It was kind of a daily routine. _Almost normal._

Crazed people, psychotic kids. They were no cases of hardship, at least not at that moment. But he was well aware that they could be. Anytime, anywhere. The danger was merely laying dorment inside of them. And he had to wipe it out completely before they could hurt themselves or others. It was his responsibility. Therefore he would give them the chance of starting a new life. Without fear to be remembered. Without memories to haunt them. The past was _already dead._

But sometimes they kept clinging onto them. Silly people. They had to make it so much harder. Forgetting was the best way. He asked for nothing else. _Tch._

So much. He gave them so much and they gave him nothing in return. Not that he ever demanded anything. No. He knew they couldn't give him anything .. _Wasn't that so ?_ He accepted that. He truly did. After all they were poor creatures. Wretched. Measly. They needed saving, salvation. He was their protector, offering them redemption. There was nothing he could want from them.

No, no, _no_.

That wasn't right. It wasn't.

He saw it. Every single day. Every single person. Maybe they had lost their minds. But they still had something _to give._ Of course, so obvious ! That could be the answer. It had always been right in front of him. Bruised, cracked, torn. Yet still of use. Especially the young of them. They needed his help the most, didn't they ? _Oh, indeed._

He could give them back a place in this sad world. And they would get the chance to serve the favour of others. What could they want more ? They had nothing but he would give them something. They should be thankful and appreciative. _Ungrateful brats._ Malfunctioning, failing, sick. He knew what they desired. He could see right through them. It was always the same.

Eyes whispering _use me_.

Lips murmuring _want me_.

Faces screaming _need me_.

He would give them all of that. What their soft eyes wished for. What their sweet lips meant to say. What their delicate faces expressed. He could use them. He didn't want them but he could need them. There were others who might want them. It was so simple, really.

Make them forget, piece them back together, give them a purpose. They could stop being a burden for this world. He would help them. He always did. He was finally good enough, no, he was too good for them, wasn't he ? _Had been all along._ But they could make up for that. There was a way, there always was a way.

Yes, he really seemed to be not much different from the other students. Curiosity was never a sin. In fact, it was truly nothing else than just a harmless symptom possibly foreshadowing something else.

But there was nothing wrong with him.

He was an expert in this subject. He had given years and years of his life to reach that far.** He** was immune.

A fine man, respected by his colleagues and tutors. Most of all by that one guy. A good sort. Honest, proud and wise. Said man was a dean at the university and had tutored him for a long time. They sort of knew each other well and the old man sometimes invited him to his home for tea. It seemed to be natural, a normal manner of that man. How kind._ So foolish._ A good sort, really. Gullible, predictable, blind. Simply human.

He always followed his invitations. Always followed him to his home. Sweet little home. Harbouring a sweet wife with two sweet little children. Ah yes, the children. Always the children. Again, again and again.

Pretty, gentle, polite._ Bruised, cracked, torn._

He saw them._ Saw them every day._

One of them was still very small._ So defenceless. So lost._

The other one already a young woman._ Body more distinct shaped and there's a use, there's a use for it._

Such silky and dark hair. Such lovely and smooth skin. Eyes so big, lips so full. A true beauty. Smart, well-educated, graceful. A true lady. Well-formed, seductive, delicious. Playing with all her charms yet always acting so innocent. Mocking him. Taunting him. All the time. Such a minx. He wasn't stupid, he knew what she wanted.

But he wasn't good enough for her.

...

**No.**

There was nothing wrong with _him_.

He did so much for everyone. _Always ungrateful._ He was their hero. _They needed him._ He never asked for anything._ And they never gave._

Enough. He had enough of that.

He knew what she desired. He could see right through her. _It was always the same._ Eyes whispering, lips murmuring, faces screaming.

_Use me. Want me. Need me. _

He would give her all of that. All what she wished for. Just like them. It was so simple, _really_.

It was something he had learned. For hours, days and months. It was something he had been supposed to understand. For himself and others.

And he understood. All he did was logical. All he did was reasonable. It was _human_.

It was his job. And he would become even better.

Didn't he deserve to be honoured ? Didn't he deserve more gratitude ?

_Yes he did._

After all, he was a true savior and he would save them all from themselves.

One way

_or another_.

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><p>For those who read until the very end and survived ..<p>

Cookies, cake and tea for you~ !

**R&R** ;)


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